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When Paa meets Ink for the first time, she thinks: no wonder Pat is in love with her.
Ink is cool and a little older and does not treat Paa any different: a welcome change from the way pat’s other friends treat her—like she’s an extension of him, like she is their little sister too. Ink looks at her, smiles at her, asks for her opinion on movies and shows, recommends books that Paa might like, teases her, pats her on her head, keeps giving her food every chance she gets, says, you’re dear to me, in a gentle voice, and Paa thinks: no wonder everyone is in love with her.
There is a gnawing feeling embedded bone-deep that tells Paa: I want to spend all my time with Ink. There is a hole in her heart, the cavity of which tells Paa: it’s empty without Ink in it. There is a litany that goes on in Paa’s head: Ink, Ink, Ink, Ink.
Paa looks at Ink and thinks: no wonder i am in love with you.
Abruptly, the world stops. The ground beneath her feet is pulled out. The world quietens down. Paa’s world narrows to: Ink’s hand wrapped around her finger, the point of contact where their knees touch under the table, the sweetness of the pancake—fed by Ink—in her mouth, the thudding of her heart screaming Ink’s name, Ink, Ink, Ink, Ink.
“Paa? Paa!” the urgency in Ink’s voice causes her to look up. a mistake, in retrospect. Ink’s face is twisted in concern, as she reaches out to tap Paa’s face. “Are you alright?”
“Hm? yeah!” Paa smiles, but she knows it doesn’t seem convincing.
How long has this feeling been festering within her? How long has she been harbouring secret feelings for her brother’s crush? How could she even have thoughts about stealing pat’s crush?
So, Paa does what she does best in moments of moral predicaments: repress, repress, repress, until she convinces herself that she is completely 100% over Ink, and the reason for her sudden makeover is definitely because she wants to date other people! (not because she wants Ink to see her in another light.)
At university, Ink surprises her once again by being thoughtful and kind and protective. It gets worse, somehow. Being so close to Ink on a regular basis and yet having to simmer in repressed feelings that definitely don’t exist. she wishes to scratch the itch by making it worse—by dating people until she finally forgets about Ink.
Ink does not make it easier to forget all about her.
Husband material, her friends call Ink.
“It's not like that,” Paa says, stealing another glance at Ink, currently laughing alongside some other freshmen. “My brother likes her a lot.”
“Ouch,” they say. “How are you dealing with it?”
She isn’t. “I had a crush on her—I mean who wouldn’t—but I am completely over her now!”
“Hm,” they say.
“Hm!” Paa nods enthusiastically. She steals another glance at Ink, only to find her looking at Paa already. She waves and makes her way towards Paa.
Paa says, quite loudly, “So that’s why i’m asking if you know of any parties taking place near our campus!”
“Ooh, parties,” says Ink, suddenly looking over them with a bright, teasing smile. “if you want to go out drinking, I'll take you,” she says.
“Not because of that,” Paa says, ignoring the sudden burst of affection from under her skin. “I just want to have the full university experience,” she says.
“University experience?”
“Yeah,” Paa nods slowly. “You know! Intense partying, dating random people, for instance.”
Ink’s eyes darken, even though her smile remains the same. “I hope you find such fun parties then,” she says and leaves.
“Did you see that?” Paa’s friends say. “She was definitely jealous.”
Paa, who knows better, simply chooses not to reply and sets up a goal to find fun parties where she can forget all about Ink.
Despite finding the fun parties (or in Paa’s case, one singular fun party), forgetting about Ink seems unlikely.
“She’s just so pretty,” she drunkenly yells at the random stranger in the bathroom yet again. “She’s so... helpful. and kind. And she treats me so, so, so, good. Like an equal.”
“You said that already,” the stranger shouts over the loud music, smiling blearily. “She sounds lovely. Why don’t you call her?”
At that moment, Paa can’t think of a sngle argument against that idea.
“Paa?” Ink mutters, “what’s up? Wait. Where are you?”
“P’Inkkkk,” Paa drawls out, “how are youuu?”
“Paa,” Ink says, her tone sombre. “Tell me where you are. I’ll come to pick you up.”
Paa frowns. she just wanted to talk to Ink, but alas, she is useless in the face of Ink’s questioning. she thinks she rattles off the address and then closes her eyes to rest against the shoulder of her new best friend, but when she opens them again, she’s underneath the vast night sky, her head resting in someone’s lap as someone plays with her hair.
“P’Ink,” she whispers, her voice hoarse.
“Paa,” calls Ink, her fingers never stopping, digging deeper into her hair. it feels so good. “I thought you wanted to have an intense partying experience. instead, I see you passed out on the bathroom floor with another girl.”
Paa pouts. “P’Inkkk,” she whines, shifting in her lap to gaze at her. “Why are you teasing me?”
Ink’s nose scrunches up as she pinches Paa’s nose in return. “Because you deserve it,” she says. “I am going to lecture you on your carelessness tomorrow, but for now, let me get you back to your dorm.”
At the thought of pat reacting to her being drunk, Paa’s stomach lurches. “No, no, no, no,” she mumbles, shaking her head on Ink’s thigh. “Not at all!”
“Where do you want to go then?”
“Anywhere but there!”
Ink sighs—not out of annoyance or resignation—and nods. “My dorm, then.”
At the thought of being in Ink’s room, Paa’s heart lurches. “All alright,” she concedes.
She still feels drunk, Paa thinks, as she stares at Ink—without an ounce of shame, even when Ink meets her eyes—who is trying her hardest to tuck Paa into the passenger seat. Ink’s movements are gentle, her fingers grazing the cut of her sleeve, her over-sensitive neck when she buckles the belt against her. Paa preens under her gaze, smiling lightly. “you take care of me so well,” Paa softly says, safe in the space Ink has carved out for her. “you’re so nice.”
Ink’s eyes soften. “I am really not. you’re just dear to me,” she says, patting Paa’s head. Her eyes feel heavy—she wants to stay here, beside Ink, her hands in her hair.
She leans over, tucking a strand of Ink’s hair behind her ear. “I bet you say that to everyone else too,” Paa mumbles.
“Everyone else?”
“Yes,” Paa says. she closes her heavy eyes, settling her head against the window. “Like...everyone.”
“There's nobody else,” Ink says, softly. “There's just you, Paa.”
Paa mumbles something in return and lets the fickle sleep blanket her.
The next morning, Paa wakes up to her head pounding, her mouth tasting like stale alcohol, and she feels grimy, disgusting. she wakes up to the smell of coffee and toast. She wakes up in a bed that feels softer and warmer than hers. She gets up with a start, holding her head as her stomach lurches weakly.
“Oh, you’re up!”
Paa tenses minutely, the memories of last night playing on a loop behind her eyelids. She remembers: Ink coming to pick her up; tucking a strand of Ink’s hair behind her ear; insisting that she can’t walk—a feeble excuse for Ink to carry her; Ink indulging a little bit, allowing Paa to lean her body weight against her; wearing Ink’s clothes to bed; insisting that Ink should only sleep beside her; gathering Ink in her arms, being held closely.
She remembers mumbling: “I bet you say that to everyone else too.”
She remembers: “There’s just you, Paa.”
She remembers: “Maybe I should just borrow all your clothes, all the time. so then I can smell like you.” and Ink’s: “Maybe you should.”
She remembers saying: “My friends think you’re husband material.” and when they’re in bed together, Ink saying: “and you? what do you think?” and Paa replying: “that doesn’t matter. I should not be thinking that.”
She remembers putting her head in Ink’s neck and asking: “P’Ink, do you like hiya?”
She remembers Ink’s urgent: “What gave you that impression?”
“You’re both perfect for each other,” she’d said. “He likes you because you’re you—the best person ever, and he’s great, you know? If you get to know him, you’d like him too.”
“Paa,” Ink had said, “let’s talk about this tomorrow, okay?”
And then, mortifyingly, Paa remembers: “It makes sense that he likes you. Who wouldn’t? everybody who meets you likes you. I like you too.”
In the present, Paa lets out a blood-curdling scream. So much for not letting her feelings show. so much for making sure Pat gets his happy ending with Ink.
Ink rushes over, holding Paa by her shoulder, the back of her other palm on her forehead. “Are you okay? What happened? Do you need a bucket?”
Paa flinches away, but that does not loosen Ink’s hold on her shoulder. “P’Ink,” she says. “What do you remember from last night?”
The concern in Ink’s face bleeds away. “Is that what you’re worried about?”
“P’Ink, this is serious! what do you remember?”
“I wasn't the one drunk last night.”
“Oh god,” Paa mutters. “Oh god, oh god, oh god. This is a nightmare.”
“Breathe,” Ink says, softly. “Go freshen up. we will talk once you feel marginally better.”
Paa only manages to feel worse, somehow, the dread curdling in her stomach.
Ink does not look at her once, but the table in front of Paa does not remain empty for long. there is toast slathered in butter and mild coffee--the smell of which carries the sweetness Paa prefers. Her stomach grumbles in hunger and she listens to it, just this instance.
When the table is wordlessly cleared again, Paa looks up to see Ink’s patient gaze on her.
“Paa,” she starts.
Suddenly, Paa does not want to hear what Ink has to say about this. About any of this. Her mortifying experience, her mortifying confession--if one could even call it that. But, Paa knows that she has to talk. What would she tell pat if he were in her position? She’d say: Ink is not like other people. She’d say: Ink won’t hate you for what you did. She’d say: you’re safe with Ink, and she won’t care about you any less. She’d say: even if she rejects you--which, she definitely will--it won’t be from a place of malice. She’d say--
“Paa,” Ink tries calling her again, but Paa lurches forward, capturing Ink’s hands in hers.
“Don’t,” Paa says, her eyes scrunched shut.
If Pat were in Paa’s place, Paa would say: she will still care for you just as much. you will still be dear to her.
“I like you, too,” Ink softly says.
Paa tears her eyes open, her breath hitching, her heart thudding.
That’s the thing, a voice in her head that suspiciously sounds like pat says, Only you were ever that dear to Ink. Nobody else.
“What?”
Ink entangles their fingers together and presses their joined hand to her heart where it beats just as fast as Paa’s. “You heard me the first time,” Ink says, then sighs. “I like you, too. there is nobody else for me but you, Paa.”
“But,” Paa starts, then falls short. “But, hiya--”
“Does not like me. trust me on that.”
“But he’s been trying to impress someone a whole lot! He even spends more time with you than before!”
“Really? Is there nobody else he spends as much time with? maybe more than me?”
“Nope!” and then-- “Ah.” Suddenly, pat’s behaviour around Pran makes much more sense. And then--
“Any other reservations you have against the idea of dating?”
Ink lets go of their hands for a moment, coming to sit beside Paa, a gentle expression on her face before her hands are held again.
“Oh,” Paa says, looking at their entwined fingers.
“Hm?”
“I-- are you sure?”
“Are you not?”
“How are you so casual about it!”
Ink’s expression morphs into something more amused, more fond. Now that Paa is aware of the weight behind her gaze, she feels awfully exposed--and yet, she doesn’t seem to hate that feeling. “Paa,” Ink says, taking her hand again, pressing it over her heart. “I look casual about it, but I am really, really not.” her last words in a whisper; Paa notes just how little Ink’s fingers tremble, her heart under her palms rabbit-fast.
“Do you really like me?”
Ink’s eyes flicker to her lips. “Do you want me to prove it to you?”
Not really. “Yes.”
The difference between the idea of kissing Ink and actually kissing Ink is way too disconcerting, Paa thinks. In her imagination, Ink didn’t hold her as though she was her tether. in her imagination, Ink didn’t taste like coffee and cinnamon. In her imagination, Ink didn’t tilt Paa’s head softly, didn’t rub her thumbs over the arch of her cheekbones. It is way too different, Paa thinks, and then, her thoughts end up melting into a puddle by her feet.
When they break apart for air, foreheads resting against each other, Ink tenderly stroking her cheeks, Paa says, “You really like me, don’t you?”
“Who else, Paa?” Ink whispers. “There is nobody I know who sees me the way you do. I don't want to be seen by anybody else but you.”
Paa leans forward to peck her on her lips (because she is allowed! she rejoices internally) and says, “I like you.”
“I like you,” Ink replies. Paa no longer doubts those words.
“Prove it.”
Ink laughs in reply, attacking Paa with as many kisses as her heart desires.